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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29826612">golden</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/molerein/pseuds/molerein'>molerein</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works &amp; Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Also..., Crack Treated Seriously, F/M, and has no description, anyway have a soft fluffy piece I wrote for my sister, it's not really an oc because the character in question is unnamed, so it could be read as a reader insert</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 20:34:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,472</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29826612</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/molerein/pseuds/molerein</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>his love is a pretty little thing, he thinks - all cast in the silver of the moon, sprinkling stardust through her hair, the very definition of divinity.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Glorfindel (Tolkien)/Original Female Character(s), Glorfindel (Tolkien)/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>golden</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>so this is genuinely something that was meant to be crack but got away from me quite severely. I asked my sister to give me a couple prompts to write, and one of them was "sorry I lost all the onions", obviously a means to make me write something light and silly. it did not quite go according to plan, but I love it nonetheless.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>his love is a pretty little thing, he thinks - all cast in the silver of the moon, sprinkling stardust through her hair, the very definition of divinity. beautiful in ways he has not the language to voice; another age he could spend seeking, devouring book after book if only to find the one word that would fit, but he knows from the start it would be an exercise in futility. and regardless, pretty things - things who look as if crafted by the very hands of the valar themselves - are meant to be perceived. spoken language pales in comparison; he'd say she is akin to the trees if her radiance was less so, but as it stands, there is nothing to compare it to.</p><p>she is, of course, oblivious. that, or she is so very good at appearing so, he does not know, and has not the heart to ask. but she blushes so very sweetly whenever he whispers praise into her ear, and while all eyes turn to her as they walk, she only has eyes for him.</p><p>yes, his love is all those things the poets would waste their lives away trying to capture. a painter's brush would never quite catch the curve of her mouth, nor the way lashes cast spiderwebbed shadows across her cheekbones whenever she laughs. songs have been sung of valiant deeds, but none so sweet as her voice... and regardless, glorfindel is no artist. his craft is with the blade, and even there she excels as if she were only dancing.</p><p>truth is, his ability to speak gilded words has been long lost in her presence. he remembers even now how he had fumbled when her gaze fell upon him that first fateful day, when (scarecrly returned among the living and still shimmering with the grace of the valar) he had watched as her friends tittered and preened under his gaze, but she merely smiled back.</p><p>elrond did offer to give him her name then - amused, if a little surprised, but glorfindel meant to make a game out of it. she would give it to him freely when she deemed it right, and until then, he would find other things to call her. starlight, whispered to himself in awe when nighttime only brought more of her vibrance out. my lady, courteous and sweet, if only to watch her cheeks flush. my love, later on, much later on, when the chase had stopped being a chase and became instead a sprint together, the two of them, towards the same goal.</p><p>and that's another thing; her love. a surprise to nobody but himself, he had learned after, if celebrian's teasing was to be heeded... and it often was. but to him, it came as sudden as the breaking of clouds in quick summer rain.</p><p>"i have been patient," she'd told him, arm in arm as they strolled to the garden. they'd stopped to watch a group of elflings chase one another in the distance, and he could not restrain himself from tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. she'd laughed then, and he wondered if her laugh would taste of sunshine, but then she caught his gaze and all thoughts stopped.</p><p>"my lady?" verging on confusion, her earlier words gave him pause. had she been patient? yes. every day, she would play along, seek him out as if his presence would brighten her mood just like that. and every day she did not, he would find himself drawn to her anyway, even if only to watch from afar. but his star is smart too, he ought to remember. perhaps she had known the answer before he even knew to pose the question.</p><p>"i have been patient," she repeated herself, twisting her body to stand chest to chest, and glorfindel had felt his heart stutter and then speed up. "i was waiting for you, despite the advice all those around us gave me. but i won't wait anymore. i plan on courting you, my lord, and after that, i plan on marrying you."</p><p>and that was that. spitfire that she is, outspoken as she is, he should have known better than to think her akin to any other. he knows better now. knows the way her mind works, fast and sharp as a knife, what she sounds like when happy or sad or worrying or... upset.</p><p>his love is a pretty little thing, yes, all-consuming in her exuberance, but when angered? she is beautiful.</p><p>she is beautiful now.</p><p>in his defense, neither him nor elrohir and elladan had expected the orcs so close to the border. they should have, in retrospect, with so many sightings in the lands nearby and with the threat of mordor ever growing, or at the very least heeded the words she gifted him with whenever he went away. "be safe," she would say. "return to me whole."</p><p>and well... it's not like he hasn't. for all the bruises and scraps, and even wounds, he is not missing any limbs, but she still insists on checking him all over, shooing elrond to check on his sons with an exasperated huff. the lord of imladris, despite being the better healer, does so with no protest, but the look he shoots glorfindel is pitying. she's got it covered, his pretty girl. but she's also glaring at him, and for a moment, he wishes he would be facing a balrog instead.</p><p>"what were you thinking, marching off against an army with only the twins at your side?" when said like this, the folly of his actions becomes even more apparent, but he bites back a wince as he braces himself for both her words and the way her fingers clean the wound at his side. her touch is still gentle, in spite of the way that she is fuming, and he really wants to kiss her right this very moment.</p><p>"it wasn't an army, starlight -" he begins, only to clamp his mouth shut when her eyes, venomous and dark, find his own.</p><p>"a hundred against three, fin! and elrohir and elladan are barely past their majority!"</p><p>he does not tell her that he has faced odds far less favorable than these. does not remind her that he has died once already, all while facing a more terrible foe. she was not there when gondolin caught fire, and for that he is eternally grateful. there is truth in her words nonetheless. the three of them were not even outside of rivendell to patrol - his shift had ended three days prior - but rather travelling back home after a short journey. they had their weapons on them, but no armour, and any sane person would have waited for help. the twins take too much after him, however. his very bones were aching for a fight.</p><p>he realises now that that he has acted a fool.</p><p>and so, he touched his fingers to her chin, brushes away the stubborn tears clinging to her lashes. she's been worried, and she'll be worried for him again and again, the knowledge splitting his heart.</p><p>"i am sorry, my love." hands move to grasp her by the sides, to bring her into his arms. she fights at first, still not done with his battered body, but melts against him soon enough. "i am sorry that i cannot promise that i will not to this again, too."</p><p>she sighs, his beautiful wife, presses her lips to his collarbone, then lower, against his beating heart. when she speaks, she sounds resigned, "i know."</p><p>and oh! how he aches! how he wishes to make her laugh again, to take away all her pain and sorrow and do away with it forever, until nothing can hurt her but the memory of hurt. he pulls her closer, bestows upon the crown of her head a kiss, then, pulling back, peppers them all across her face.</p><p>"and..." sombre, serious, he looks at her as she readies herself for another apology that will only drive the thorns deeper into her soul instead of being balm, but his lips twitch with mischief he can barely contain. "i sincerely apologise for losing all the onions."</p><p>for a moment, all is silent. even his breath is held while her pretty face contorts into confusion. and when she laughs, she laughs with her whole body. it breaks the spell of mourning that had befallen them, for truly there is nothing to mourn (except the onions), until ribs and lungs both burn with the myrth.</p><p>to him, she is pretty in any instance, but like this, in his arms and joyful and teasing, is how he likes her best. he vows now, as he brushes fingers through her hair to calm her, that he will strive to keep her like this as long as he draws breath. </p>
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